


The one where Bilbo will fight you, okay?

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo is protective of his boys ok, Bilbo will fuck you up, Conkers is not actually conkers, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Slash, Rivendell AU, Rivendell | Imladris, The one where Bilbo is not taking any shit, Wing!AU, Wingfic, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-24
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2019-01-04 22:32:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12177801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Riding the warm thermals above Imladris, Bilbo Baggins finds he didn't have a care in the world today.Well, until one of the Elves had to go and screw up that plan.Bilbo's in for a whole lotta trouble.





	The one where Bilbo will fight you, okay?

Riding the warm thermals above Imladris, Bilbo Baggins found he didn't have a care in the world today.

Basking in the sun with a chance to stretch his wings, he was perfectly content and at peace; his heart soared with every updraft.

Balancing on the currents alongside him were a few elves also taking advantage of the fine weather. They were polite, but distant, quiet in a way Hobbits never could be. 

So Bilbo found himself drifting further from them, pushing into a gentle glide as he circled closer to the Last Homely House.

It was then he heard a shout from one of the practise fields; a distinctly un-avian shout, which of course meant - "The dwarves," Bilbo audibly gasped - if they were in trouble, especially being wingless in a winged environment -

He didn't stop to think about it, just pulled his wings in tight to his body and dived, wind tugging frantically at his hair, whipping past him as he pushed himself to go faster, damnit, faster!

What he saw when he drew closer was worrying.

Fíli, standing over the prone body of his brother, Kíli, snarling at an elf, whose wings were arched high, reaching out to strike any second now -

Bilbo acts, straightening enough to swoop over Fíli's head - just - (thank the Green Lady he didn't have wings otherwise that maneouvre would not have worked, not one bit - )  
He kicks the Elf in the chest with all the force of a charging Mumakîl, talons piercing through his tunic to leave sharp gashes in his skin, whole mind focussing on getting him away from the kids -

The elf flies backwards, shock evident on his face as he rolls back to his feet.  
Bilbo sets down lightly, deliberately placing himself between the Elf and the boys, hen-harrier wings arched in just as an aggressive a position as, he squints, the elf's own pochard ones.  
Fíli's breathing behind him is harsh, coming in great heaving pants, but he cannot risk taking his eyes away from the Elf, not when he begins to try and circle round Bilbo, trying to get him to leave his back open like some green novice.  
Bilbo settles for a quick, "You alright?" instead, relieved when he gets an affirmative grunt.  
The Elf all but hisses at him, "This isn't your business, Half-wing. Step aside." As he beats his wings, once, twice, three times. A formal challenge.  
Bilbo claws the ground with his right talons, drawing furrows, once, twice, three times, in response.

"No," he said with a firery resolve he feared his voice may not reflect. "These ones are mine and you may not have nor harm them. They are not yours to claim. Stand aside."  
The Elf grinned, showing way too many teeth to be anything less than downright feral.  
"Bilbo, be careful," Hissed Fíli from somewhere behind his left shoulder.  
He jerked his head just so. Acknowledges the warning. "Ori went for help," the blonde adds. "They'll be here any minute."

Bilbo looks at the Elf, claws blantantly shining in the long grass, the hunger in his eyes.  
"Not gonna be quick enough," he replies with a great deal of reluctance. He hated fights, even in the Shire where claws were blunt from peace they ended in great tragedy with ease and the idea of one turns his stomach.  
But for kids, he was beginning to realise he would do almost anything.

"Cover your brother," he adds, tone brooking no arguement.

He stretched out his wings and lept at their aggresor, teeth bared in a threatening snarl.

The Elf mirrors him, hands outstretched to try and gain purchase as they grapple -

They collide with a crash and roll to the floor, biting and kicking and bellowing in anger as they each try to get the upper hand. Bilbo flares his wings, keeping his back to the boys and fights as best as he is able to.

He wasn't called the best at Conkers in the Shire for nothing.

..  
He doesn't recall much of the fight, after. It could've lasted days, years, seconds.  
What he did remember was when Lord Elrond and his Secretary wings pushed them apart, both dishevelled and bleeding.  
The Elf had a series of long parallel gashes across his face from where Bilbo had struck him at one point, and he remembers being absurdly proud of that.  
Kind hands, small hands, Dwarven hands, guided him back to their set of rooms, cleaned and bandaged his injuries, voices low, soothing.  
He had complied with their requests to turn over, stay calm and all the rest, too tired and sore to resist.

He remembers the pain when they had to set his wing, how he hated it being trapped behind his back until it healed.  
He remembers sitting by the fire that night, unable to fall asleep.   
He remembers talking to Thorin in those wee quiet hours.  
No, he didn't know what Kíli had said to provoke the Elf, just knew that they needed help. Just knew that he wasn't going to allow a Winged to hurt the Dwarves who had no defense against being hauled off up into the great blue sky.   
Thorin had not asked why he was so ferocious in their defense, had merely bowed his head, hair falling in front of his face like some great mane.   
Master Baggins, he had said, I have misjudged you quite badly.   
Please, he had said, forgive me. I am honoured to journey with one who holds my nephews safety in such a high regard as I do.

Bilbo had laughed, wincing as the movement of his head made the room spin. Master Oakenshield, he had replied. I would have done that for any of the Company. And there is nothing to forgive. We have just begun our journey, and we know little of each other, let alone enough to trust. And, he added as an afterthought. Call me Bilbo.   
Bilbo, Thorin had smiled ever so slightly around the words. Call me Thorin.  
...

The next day he had fielded so many inquisitive questions from the dwarves he often wished he was able to take to the air to escape.

Oin had forbidden it however in order to allow his wings to heal, and grudgingly admitted they would most likely take a week or so to set correctly.

Kíli and Fíli had ambushed him early on, grinning, desperate to know if that was how they fought in the Shire because "If so we totally are going back to get more," They had chorused cheekily. But, they had also demanded to know, why hadn't they told him he was a fighter? Here they were thinking him some weakling, along with the rest of the Company and really, not telling them had been bad form, Kíli had whined. It's dangerous not to reveal all your ablilities to a travelling group, Fíli had added with a frown, it means we can structure fights better with improved chances of success.

Bilbo had frowned, tilting his head to the side. "Why," he had said, puzzled. "But I did tell you, that first night in my Smial. I did say to Thorin I was a deft hand at Conkers."


End file.
